


Étoile

by Abka_Aten



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 2CT, Angst, Aristocracy, Ciel Phantomhive Has a Twin, Female Ciel Phantomhive, Gen, Genderbending, Nobility, Sister-Sister Relationship, The Phantomhive's Way, Twin Ciel Theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abka_Aten/pseuds/Abka_Aten
Summary: She saw the sun. She was the sun.“Whether as a boy or a girl, I’ve got nothing to lose, or to gain.”





	Étoile

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a response of the Phantomhive twin's revelation. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed. English is not my first language.

_What are girls made of?_

_Sugar, spice and everything nice, they’re made of this and that._

_A lady should be weak and cute in front of her lord. It’s the most important thing, to be a naïve, innocent girl. It’s your job to smile and be surrounded by nice things, just like in the nursery rhymes. That’s why you should be like that._

_Poetry over philosophy, embroidery rather than cooking, dance instead of chess, be an unknowing angel._

_Every girl born in the country of roses is raised by these words._

 

_Angelina Dalles to Elizabeth Midford_

_Kuroshitsuji, Chapter 58._

**Back**  

She caught one of her beaming smile, full of warmth and acceptance, like an endless blue sky with her light steps; her sister shone like a fairy in the secret garden, flowers in her fist.

From the window she perched, her tiny mouth unconsciously mirrored the happy expression, as though her golden cage had gone. Hummed the familiar melody of Over the hills and faraway, the little girl jumped down, making the straw of papers flew around, fingers wrote the pretty scene that she’d just seen, threads of words knitted into a rainbow coloured poem.

 

_||_

 

_embroidery rather than cooking_

The roses’ patterns were now visible at least, she sighed as she put down the needle, secured the embroidery and stretched her stiff upper body. As she looked around the playroom, she wondered whether Mother would scold them again, what with chessboard and chess pieces scattered, dolls everywhere, wooden trains and nutcrackers, pressed flowers in papers, Ciel’s philosophy and history books and her Latin and math books stood out like  twin towers.

Suddenly, Ciel’s laughter echoed throughout the corridor.

Good. Her sister apparently enjoyed cooking (or bonding over the German dog, Father joked), no matter how unladylike the activity was.

Between them, Ciel was always the one of a kind after all.

 

_||_

 

_A lady, should be weak and cute in front of her lord. It’s the most important thing, to be a naïve, innocent girl. It’s your job to smile and be surrounded by nice things, just like in the nursery rhymes. That’s why you should be like that._

 

No. No. It was fake.

It was not nice.

Too artificial.

She slowed her breath, speaking to herself. Right, she could not fail.

Her future depended in this.

She looked back at the mirror; a French one with golden ivy twisted and framed it nicely. It was small mirror, one she could hide between her poetry collections that Aunt An made into a book.

Two pair of sapphire eyes, hair combed neatly, bejeweled pin shaped into lily of the valley secured her bangs.

She tried once again, mouth straightened and muscles lifted the corner of her mouth.

Not too obvious, but enough to make other people smile back.

Perfect.

 

 _||_

 

_dance instead of chess, be an unknowing angel._

 

The night had fallen as she tugged the white and green grass dress, identical to Ciel who brightly introduced herself to the stranger.

The man’s cheeks were rosy, enchanted by such a lovely sight of her sister as her father ruffled her own hair. Despite the title of identical she’d still somehow managed to look like a wilted rose compared to Ciel.  

“Oh, it’s been a long time, you two!”

That voice, Uncle Klaus!

As Ciel flew into Uncle Klaus’s arms, a young boy no older than twelve with the same sapphire eyes had approached them, stiffly asked her father to dance with one of his daughters.

Her father sent her his rare, encouraging smile. She’d straightened her gown and tried to banish her fear as she received the invitation, smiled like an angel , one that complimented her cute features. The elder boy blushed and led her to the dance floor.

Inwardly, she'd cheered at his response. She’d practiced that for hours.

They both waltzed around the other guests like a pair of young birds.

 

_||_

 

 _and be surrounded by nice things_ , _just like in the nursery rhymes._

 

Mother brought them to her private jeweler; she selected the important pieces for Ciel, her heiress and future Marchioness and thus permitted her younger daughter to choose her own. Her sister had the trendiest ones considering she was the heiress that the Phantomhive ought to show off, Mother would bought her many many ones in the future.

Hers though, like Uncle Diedrich had said, she should choose the ones that would last for more than a last time.

A second daughter was nothing without a pleasant appearance, personality and an alliance to support her Father’s House.

 

_||_

 

_Poetry over philosophy_

“His name is Lawrence Bluer. He is five years older.”

“Does he have other siblings?”

Her aunt inquired about the boy whom her sister gushed about.

“Only sisters.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“Poetry, he likes it.”

Aunty An’s red tresses tickled her nose as she kissed her forehead and murmured before saying goodbye.

‘Good, continue your correspondence with him, my niece.”

She walked back to the manor, fingers caressed the white rose, ignored the false thorn that pricked her; her mind went back to her conversation with Lawrence.

Lawrence liked poetry enough.

 

However, philosophy was the love of his life.

He liked conversed with her, she had a fresh mind, fresh perspective.

 

He, however argued passionately over subjects with Ciel. She had never seen her sister so spirited, no one had challenged her like that in a long time. She’d used to do that, before Mother silently replaced her tutors and Father did not give special lessons now.

Aunt An was replacing Aunt Frances, the future vision that she would draw her sword through enemy was gone; an angelic lady that presented a glass of poisoned wine came instead.

 

_||_

 

**Now**

She screamed. In the middle of the ritual, a silent, bloodied little girl had gone.  

Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

The price to walk across the bridge had been paid.

In the midst of sadness and anger, confusion and despair, the cursed words were spat out.

 

“What is your name?”

 

“My name is Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive.”

And she spoke the finale sentence, a promise of lifetime vengeance at the death of her other half, trapped her soft, woman heart, her aunt’s lessons and her frail physique into coffin, locked it and threw the key away in her other eye, painted with Faustian contract.

“The one who will inherit the House of Earl Phantomhive.”

Black.

 

_||_

 

In this world, she was not born as Countess. She was once a Lady, with woman’s weapons of silks and smiles, backstabbing each other, ruined others with gossips and rumor mills.

She was not an heiress who wielded the power of a Watchdog, who could freely shot and drew her sword like a man, who reined the underworld directly with iron fist.

She was the shadow of the sun.

Phantomhive was a power of Man. A womanly strength had no place there.

Ciel Phantomhive was the stronger one, her elder sister could compensate her lack of male gender with her competence of fencing, shooting, sharp mind, healthy physique and confidence, enchanting personality.

 

For survival she shed her existing exoskeleton, grew the new one that mimicked her sister.

Her imitation was not perfect.

 

Her health was one problem, fencing was another. Exhausting activities like riding and shooting were the ones she managed to excel.

Every morning she held into the mirror, eyes boring into her stoic face.

There was no smile, only icy cold glacier that people glimpsed, as though the fire and the death of her family had erased her ability to produce one.

Ciel Phantomhive was calm with confidence aura, always unruffled no matter what happened.

She was the Countess Phantomhive.

 

**_||_**

**Then**

Ciel looked the same; her features were sharp like Father's, beautiful like a fallen angel, though her smile was twisted into a cruel one.

The elder twin had chided her for parading as as herself.

She trembled hard, sweating like bullets. So this was the meaning of Edward’s saying that he could not come back to her side. He’d found Ciel, his true fiancee.

 

_Why are you coming back?_

_Why?_

Her sister dressed identical to the day she’d presented the dish that she’d cooked with Father and Diedrich.

“My name is Ciel Phantomhive. The true Countess of Phantomhive.”

_||_

In another world the younger twin uttered.

“He is the heir. And I’m the one who would never become Earl.”

 

_||_

 

In this world though, she also spoke the truth.

“Whether as a boy or a girl, I’ve got nothing to lose, or to gain.”

“Aunty An would probably have been horrified, you forget your lessons so easily.”

“True. It was a good thing that she had gone then.”

 

_Click._

_||_

Red. Scarlet. Crimson.

Ruby and Sapphire.

White Roses and Red Spider Lily.

_||_

_Ciel, the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now._

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather angry that we still don't know our Ciel's name until now.  
> Still, I preferred him than the original one.


End file.
